Prologue
Where was he? Definitely not at home. The sheets weren't the same as the ones on his bed, and the mattress was hard and lumpy. Wherever he was, it smelled strongly of disinfectant. The beeping noise irritated him to no end, drilling into his brain like so many sharp nails. Slowly, he forced his eyes to open.
A moment later he realized that he was in a hospital, surrounded on all sides by brilliantly white walls. His sheets were white, as were the blinds that covered the window and the curtains on either side of those. On the table next to him was a vase of pale yellow roses, wilted slightly for lack of sunlight. The wall behind his bed was home to a card rack, upon which was a single, home made Get Well Soon card. A doctor stood by the door, talking to someone he didn't recognize.
Danny rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, hissing as a wave of pain lanced through his ribs. The doctor, realizing he was awake, rushed over and pushed him back against the pillow. "Now Mr. Fenton, stay where you are. You're in no shape to be moving about." Danny nodded and closed his eyes again, and the doctor moved off once more. He intended on going back to sleep, but a moment later the doctor returned, and trailing behind him came Danny's parents, his sister Jazz, and Tucker and Sam, his two best friends. They all eagerly pulled up chairs and situated themselves around his bed, looking down at him with concerned expressions on their faces.
"Danny, it's really good to see you awake," Jazz whispered, smiling softly. "For a while they didn't think you were going to make it."
"Wh . . . what happened?" Danny asked, confused, "why am I here?" Tucker opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again when Sam elbowed him and whispered 'later!'
"Well," Maddie started, "you were hit by a car. Someone found you on the side of the road and called an ambulance, and they brought you here. The doctors told us you were lucky to be alive."
Danny realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it. Hit by a car? But he hadn't been anywhere near the road . . . he didn't think. He tried to sit up again, but was shoved back down by the doctor. This was really beginning to piss him off; his neck ached from the rough angle the pillow and the mattress created, and his spine was beginning to hurt as well. He needed to sit upright for a while, and this doctor wouldn't let him. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?
"I suppose you want to visit with Tucker and Sam alone for a little while; we're going to get something to eat." Maddie kissed her son on the forehead and motioned for Jack and Jazz to follow her. The doctor left too, talking quietly to Jazz. The door slammed behind them, leaving Tucker, Sam, and Danny alone in the room.
The silence wasn't broken for a long time except for the irritating beep of the numerous machines attached to Danny's wrists and chest. Finally he couldn't take it any more. " I didn't get hit by a car, did I?"
"Well, the story does kinda make sense. Most of your injuries could be tied into that scenario . . . " Tucker's voice faded slowly. He was looking uneasily around the room.
"No, Danny, you didn't get run over." Sam elbowed Tucker again to bring him to attention. " Although it did make sense at first. The impact would cause the broken bones and the license plate would be sharp enough to cut you. We half- believed the doctors at first. But there were a lot of injuries that couldn't be explained, that really didn't tie into the whole car thing."
Danny had been fiddling with the buttons on the side of his bed and finally found the one he was looking for. As Sam talked, the top half of the bed folded forward, bringing Danny into a sitting position and easing the pain in his ribs and neck. He angrily tossed the pillow onto the floor and motioned for Sam to continue.
" Well," she began, " we figured out a lot of what went on ourselves, but it's got a couple of gaping holes. We need you to fill them in."
"Me? I don't have a clue what went on! You are supposed to be telling me!"
"Hmm. The pain meds must be fuzzing your memory," Tucker said, inspecting the series of needles and meters running to and from Danny's body. "You mean you don't remember anything about what happened to you?"
"Well, all I remember is that I was in ghost mode the whole time whatever it was was happening."
"Yeah, we figured that out. But other than that, nothing?" Sam was leaning forward in her chair now, her eyes wide.
"No. . . except. . . ." Danny's throat tightened as the memories came flooding back to him. The darkness, the pain, the cruel laughter that echoed in the hollow spaces of is mind until he thought it would drive him insane. He turned his face away from his friends in attempt to hide the fear creeping into his eyes.
"It's alright Danny, you don't have to talk about it." Sam laid one soft hand on Danny's arm and squeezed. He looked into her eyes and warmth and courage washed through him. "No, I'll tell you," he whispered, "but it's just between the three of us, alright?" He grinned up at his friends for a moment, then took a deep breath. . .
The door slammed, causing everyone to jump. The doctor looked at them suspiciously over the rims of his glasses before making his way through the sea of empty chairs to the machines.
"How are you feeling today, Daniel?" he inquired as he scribbled notes on his clipboard.
"Fine," Danny lied.
"If I could have your arm please." The doctor put yet another squealing box on the heavily laden cart, plugging it in to the power cord in the side. Then he carefully took a needle from his pocket, and, after sterilizing the tip, drove it into Danny's arm. He hooked a tube to the back and left again, giving Tucker and Sam another suspicious glare before he closed the door.
Danny rubbed his arm and grimaced. " I feel like a pin cushion," he complained. Sam smiled and Tucker laughed a little, and the mood in the room grew momentarily brighter before sinking back into silence.
Danny held his breath for a moment to make sure no one else was going to interrupt him, then opened his mouth and began his story.
Where was he? Definitely not at home. The sheets weren't the same as the ones on his bed, and the mattress was hard and lumpy. Wherever he was, it smelled strongly of disinfectant. The beeping noise irritated him to no end, drilling into his brain like so many sharp nails. Slowly, he forced his eyes to open.
A moment later he realized that he was in a hospital, surrounded on all sides by brilliantly white walls. His sheets were white, as were the blinds that covered the window and the curtains on either side of those. On the table next to him was a vase of pale yellow roses, wilted slightly for lack of sunlight. The wall behind his bed was home to a card rack, upon which was a single, home made Get Well Soon card. A doctor stood by the door, talking to someone he didn't recognize.
Danny rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, hissing as a wave of pain lanced through his ribs. The doctor, realizing he was awake, rushed over and pushed him back against the pillow. "Now Mr. Fenton, stay where you are. You're in no shape to be moving about." Danny nodded and closed his eyes again, and the doctor moved off once more. He intended on going back to sleep, but a moment later the doctor returned, and trailing behind him came Danny's parents, his sister Jazz, and Tucker and Sam, his two best friends. They all eagerly pulled up chairs and situated themselves around his bed, looking down at him with concerned expressions on their faces.
"Danny, it's really good to see you awake," Jazz whispered, smiling softly. "For a while they didn't think you were going to make it."
"Wh . . . what happened?" Danny asked, confused, "why am I here?" Tucker opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again when Sam elbowed him and whispered 'later!'
"Well," Maddie started, "you were hit by a car. Someone found you on the side of the road and called an ambulance, and they brought you here. The doctors told us you were lucky to be alive."
Danny realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it. Hit by a car? But he hadn't been anywhere near the road . . . he didn't think. He tried to sit up again, but was shoved back down by the doctor. This was really beginning to piss him off; his neck ached from the rough angle the pillow and the mattress created, and his spine was beginning to hurt as well. He needed to sit upright for a while, and this doctor wouldn't let him. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?
"I suppose you want to visit with Tucker and Sam alone for a little while; we're going to get something to eat." Maddie kissed her son on the forehead and motioned for Jack and Jazz to follow her. The doctor left too, talking quietly to Jazz. The door slammed behind them, leaving Tucker, Sam, and Danny alone in the room.
The silence wasn't broken for a long time except for the irritating beep of the numerous machines attached to Danny's wrists and chest. Finally he couldn't take it any more. " I didn't get hit by a car, did I?"
"Well, the story does kinda make sense. Most of your injuries could be tied into that scenario . . . " Tucker's voice faded slowly. He was looking uneasily around the room.
"No, Danny, you didn't get run over." Sam elbowed Tucker again to bring him to attention. " Although it did make sense at first. The impact would cause the broken bones and the license plate would be sharp enough to cut you. We half- believed the doctors at first. But there were a lot of injuries that couldn't be explained, that really didn't tie into the whole car thing."
Danny had been fiddling with the buttons on the side of his bed and finally found the one he was looking for. As Sam talked, the top half of the bed folded forward, bringing Danny into a sitting position and easing the pain in his ribs and neck. He angrily tossed the pillow onto the floor and motioned for Sam to continue.
" Well," she began, " we figured out a lot of what went on ourselves, but it's got a couple of gaping holes. We need you to fill them in."
"Me? I don't have a clue what went on! You are supposed to be telling me!"
"Hmm. The pain meds must be fuzzing your memory," Tucker said, inspecting the series of needles and meters running to and from Danny's body. "You mean you don't remember anything about what happened to you?"
"Well, all I remember is that I was in ghost mode the whole time whatever it was was happening."
"Yeah, we figured that out. But other than that, nothing?" Sam was leaning forward in her chair now, her eyes wide.
"No. . . except. . . ." Danny's throat tightened as the memories came flooding back to him. The darkness, the pain, the cruel laughter that echoed in the hollow spaces of is mind until he thought it would drive him insane. He turned his face away from his friends in attempt to hide the fear creeping into his eyes.
"It's alright Danny, you don't have to talk about it." Sam laid one soft hand on Danny's arm and squeezed. He looked into her eyes and warmth and courage washed through him. "No, I'll tell you," he whispered, "but it's just between the three of us, alright?" He grinned up at his friends for a moment, then took a deep breath. . .
The door slammed, causing everyone to jump. The doctor looked at them suspiciously over the rims of his glasses before making his way through the sea of empty chairs to the machines.
"How are you feeling today, Daniel?" he inquired as he scribbled notes on his clipboard.
"Fine," Danny lied.
"If I could have your arm please." The doctor put yet another squealing box on the heavily laden cart, plugging it in to the power cord in the side. Then he carefully took a needle from his pocket, and, after sterilizing the tip, drove it into Danny's arm. He hooked a tube to the back and left again, giving Tucker and Sam another suspicious glare before he closed the door.
Danny rubbed his arm and grimaced. " I feel like a pin cushion," he complained. Sam smiled and Tucker laughed a little, and the mood in the room grew momentarily brighter before sinking back into silence.
Danny held his breath for a moment to make sure no one else was going to interrupt him, then opened his mouth and began his story.